They came from me.
The moment I heard the knocking on the door, I knew that the game was up. There was nowhere to hide, no time to plan a strategy.
The knocking grew more persistent. The voices grew louder. They had no need for covertness now, they were taking no prisoners - this was war.
I calmly put on the shirt, its whiteness silently imploring me to pardon it from the atrocity that it would be subject to. But I stayed strong... did the buttons... took a deep breath, savouring the soon-to-be broken stillness... went up to the door...
Prologue:The first of March. Purnima of the Phalguna. Had lazed around after waking up, listened to some songs on the laptop and read a few pdf's. Samson, the accountant who is staying at the same place I am, left early for the SAV to clear up some work, and I had delayed the inevitable further...
There is no escape from Holi... Not once you have been infected with it once. It is one of those things that memory cells in brain and blood file away under 'long term'. The Holi festivities that we were a part of during my stay in Delhi and Noida are vivid in their detail with the look on the faces of the people when we bombed them with water balloons (If I was a passable artist, I'd have drawn the face of a person who was pillion riding in a scooter that had remarkably not taken a hit till it came below the flats where we stayed and had put up fortress in the terrace - the balloon dropped right between the guys and splattered its colourful contents all over them), the contests to see which 'pichkari' would shoot the farthest from atop the terrace (casualities - again the people on the road below),the screams and the laughter, the dancing, in a nutshell, the absolute fun - all of it still summoned effortlessly from the abyss of memory.
Back to the day...
I opened the door to Aneesh, who promptly smeared pink gulaal on me, and ran inside to reload his empty water gun. Outside, the guys had caught Dr. Kiran (our zonal manager here) who was submitting meekly to the green and red streaking his face. After getting duly covered in all the colors that anyone around could get their hands on, locked up the flat and went out with the guys...
The shirt:After
There was no time for a 'Before' snap
We walked around the Malviya Nagar market, grooving to the beats DJs at the numerous do's were cranking out. What followed was a Holi like any other - rambunctious. (If I didn't know 'rambunctious', I'd have said something longer which better conveyed 'loud, energetic and lacking in restraint'. But because I do know 'rambunctious', and it is a nice word, not using it would be unfair to it).
Murugan running across the road with a full bucket of water to rectify what was clearly to him an injustice - a group of revelers who were almost dry again... Jinesh getting hit straight in the crotch with a w.b. by a boy in a nearby terrace (who didn't get a hit on anyone or anything else earlier, in dozens of earlier attempts which were cheerfully mocked by us all)... Josil prancing about a tweenage girl outside her house and spraying her with colour below her neck, which she bore resignedly...Shyam rushing upto a small kid in the neighbourhood in a very non-threatening way,(shouting and wind-milling arms and painted with colors that could give a macaw a complex), and the kid rushing into his house crying for his mother... Gopan and Lijo doing crazy stuff... Wiping the color flooded floor of the hospital balcony with Shyam and then rolling Samson on it for good measure... The long walk afterwards through the streets and lanes, the occasional stop for allowing excited kids in the balconies to take potshots or empty their water pistols at us... Drinking Coke amidst the madness... (I was stopped by one group and someone in it poured an entire bucket over me)... We passed parties and ad hoc friend groups who were enjoying their drinks...
The crew over here: L2R,standing: Aneesh, Lijo, Murugan, Josil, Renjith, Me and Shyam
Sitting: Dinesh, Gopan and Jinesh
Behind the camera: Samson
The legends of Holi are many... It is the celebration that heralds the triumph of the devotee over the elements and one of the earliest inadvertent witch-burnings in history (Holika, sister of Hiranyakashyap, was burnt to cinders on the pyre that she had prepared for Prahlada, her protective blanket having been lifted by the wind and the Lord's grace protecting his bhakta)... It is a remembrance of the ever-playful, karmegha-varna Krishna acting jealous of Radha's complexion to get an excuse for rubbing colors on her face... It is a tribute to the courage of Kaamadeva who had to pay the price for arousing passion in Siva by being incinerated with the fire in the Mountain Lords' third eye...
On the way back, near a park, Samson, I and Aneesh went over to a group that was celebrating... We rubbed the gulaal all over them, then hugged, 'happy holi' going around like a intoxicating hookah... I remember thinking - What a fantastic festival, you need to have this more often. Okay, there is the water problem, also the environmental and dermatological issues with all the color too, but why don't people just hug others more, let down their defenses and let themselves be hugged too, and know immediately that there is no such thing as a 'cold' person... And as we walked away, still in the glow of that warmth, I kept checking if we were all there, the colors made us one in face - unrecognizable. Just human.
And there was this small girl of four or five with the prettiest curls and a pichkari nearly as long as her. She and her mother were standing outside their house, and when I stopped besides them, the mother encouraged her to have a go at me, which she did, quite gleefully. I fidgeted a little, (what joy is there in bagging a standing target?), then let it hit me in the chest... Warm water... Considerate folks, they had heated the water before bringing it out for play...
Back at the SAV, we dispersed to get freshened up, the centre was to be opened on three...
Went back to my place, and had a luxuriant bath, taking my time to scrub away multiple layers of colours and let the skin emerge... The bath after the play is also quite memorable as concerns Holi... Earlier on, when using 'Silver' colours and 'Permanent' colours were usual (now people are into the 'natural' colours thing) it used to take a few days of scrubbing and oil application before people were back looking like themselves again.
Went back to the SAV around three. No OP today, just some therapies...
Back at Kerala, sometimes I sometimes get the feeling that festivals are just another excuse to get drunk, or watch television that would be showing some 'premiere' flicks - what is the difference between Diwali and Ramzan if all you do is watch "Diwali' specials and 'Ramzan' specials? Festivals are a time for both enjoyment and introspection, revisiting history and myth, celebrating victories that have perhaps long since lost their relevance in everything but their capacity to point us to what thought, action and devotion are capable of.
The colours are off, but the smiles linger, and the memories never fade...
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